steed; but was
scarce out of the yard, when he heard the following alarming
conversation pass, of which he seemed himself the object.

"Who is that youth?" said the slow soft voice of the more precise of
the two witnesses. "Methinks I have seen him somewhere before. Is he
from these parts?"

"Not that I know of," said Bridlesley; who, like all the other
inhabitants of England at the time, answered the interrogatories of
these fellows with the deference which is paid in Spain to the
questions of an inquisitor. "A stranger--entirely a stranger--never
saw him before--a wild young colt, I warrant him; and knows a horse's
mouth as well as I do."

"I begin to bethink me I saw such a face as his at the Jesuits'
consult, in the White Horse Tavern," answered Everett.

"And I think I recollect," said Captain Dangerfield----

"Come, come, master and captain," said the authoritative voice of
Topham, "we will have none of your recollections at present. We all
know what these are likely to end in. But I will have you know, you
are not to run till the leash is slipped. The young man is a well-
looking lad, and gave up his horse handsomely for the service of the
House of Commons. He knows how to behave himself to his betters, I
warrant you; and I scarce think he has enough in his purse to pay the
fees."

This speech concluded the dialogue, which Peveril, finding himself so
much concerned in the issue, thought it best to hear to an end. Now,
when it ceased, to get out of the town unobserved, and take the
nearest way to his father's castle, seemed his wisest plan. He had
settled his reckoning at the inn, and brought with him to Bridlesley's
the small portmanteau which contained his few necessaries, so that he
had no occasion to return thither. He resolved, therefore, to ride
some miles before he stopped, even for the purpose of feeding his
horse; and being pretty well acquainted with the country, he hoped to
be able to push forward to Martindale Castle sooner than the
worshipful Master Topham; whose saddle was, in the first place, to be
padded, and who, when mounted, would, in all probability, ride with
the precaution of those who require such security against the effects
of a hard trot.

Under the influence of these feelings, Julian pushed for Warrington, a
place with which he was well acquainted; but, without halting in the
town, he crossed the Mersey, by the bridge built by an ancestor of his
friend the Earl of Derby, and continued his route towards Dishley, on
the borders of Derbyshire. He might have reached this latter village
easily, had his horse been fitter for a forced march; but in the
course of the journey, he had occasion, more than once, to curse the
official dignity of the person who had robbed him of his better steed,
while taking the best direction he could through a country with which
he was only generally acquainted.

At length, near Altringham, a halt became unavoidable; and Peveril had
only to look for some quiet and sequestered place of refreshment. This
presented itself, in the form of a small cluster of cottages; the best
of which united the characters of an alehouse and a mill, where the
sign of the Cat (the landlord's faithful ally in defence of his meal-
sacks), booted as high as Grimalkin in the fairy tale, and playing on
the fiddle for the more grace, announced that John Whitecraft united
the two honest occupations of landlord and miller; and, doubtless,
took toll from the public in both capacities.

Such a place promised a traveller, who journeyed incognito, safer, if
not better accommodation, than he was like to meet with in more
frequented inns; and at the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian halted
accordingly.

CHAPTER XXI

In these distracted times, when each man dreads
The bloody stratagems of busy hands.
--OTWAY.

At the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian received the usual attention
paid to the customers of an inferior house of entertainment. His horse
was carried by a ragged lad, who acted as hostler, into a paltry
stable; where, however, the nag was tolerably supplied with food and
litter.

Having seen the animal on which his comfort, perhaps his safety,
depended, properly provided for, Peveril entered the kitchen, which
indeed was also the parlour and hall of the little hostelry, to try
what refreshment he could obtain for himself. Much to his
satisfaction, he found there was only one guest in the house besides
himself; but he was less pleased when he found that he must either go
without dinner, or share with that single guest the only provisions
which chanced to be in the house, namely, a dish of trouts and eels,
which their host, the miller, had brought in from his mill-stream.

At the particular request of Julian, the landlady undertook to add a
substantial dish of eggs and bacon, which perhaps she would not have
undertaken for, had not the sharp eye of Peveril discovered the flitch
hanging in its smoky retreat, when, as its presence could not be
denied, the hostess was compelled to bring it forward as a part of her
supplies.

She was a buxom dame about thirty, whose comely and cheerful
countenance did honour to the choice of the jolly miller, her loving
mate; and was now stationed under the shade of an old-fashioned huge
projecting chimney, within which it was her province to "work i' the
fire," and provide for the wearied wayfaring man, the good things
which were to send him rejoicing on his course. Although, at first,
the honest woman seemed little disposed to give herself much
additional trouble on Julian's account, yet the good looks, handsome
figure, and easy civility of her new guest, soon bespoke the principal
part of her attention; and while busy in his service, she regarded
him, from time to time, with looks, where something like pity mingled
with complacency. The rich smoke of the rasher, and the eggs with
which it was flanked, already spread itself through the apartment; and
the hissing of these savoury viands bore chorus to the simmering of
the pan, in which the fish were undergoing a slower decoction. The
table was covered with a clean huck-aback napkin, and all was in
preparation for the meal, which Julian began to expect with a good
deal of impatience, when the companion, who was destined to share it
with him, entered the apartment.

At the first glance Julian recognised, to his surprise, the same
indifferently dressed, thin-looking person, who, during the first
bargain which he had made with Bridlesley, had officiously interfered
with his advice and opinion. Displeased at having the company of any
stranger forced upon him, Peveril was still less satisfied to find one
who might make some claim of acquaintance with him, however slender,
since the circumstances in which he stood compelled him to be as
reserved as possible. He therefore turned his back upon his destined
messmate, and pretended to amuse himself by looking out of the window,
determined to avoid all intercourse until it should be inevitably
forced upon him.

In the meanwhile, the other stranger went straight up to the landlady,
where she toiled on household cares intent, and demanded of her, what
she meant by preparing bacon and eggs, when he had positively charged
her to get nothing ready but the fish.

The good woman, important as every cook in the discharge of her duty,
deigned not for some time so much as to acknowledge that she heard the
reproof of her guest; and when she did so, it was only to repel it in
a magisterial and authoritative tone.--"If he did not like bacon--
(bacon from their own hutch, well fed on pease and bran)--if he did
not like bacon and eggs--(new-laid eggs, which she had brought in from
the hen-roost with her own hands)--why so put case--it was the worse
for his honour, and the better for those who did."

"The better for those who like them?" answered the guest; "that is as
much as to say I am to have a companion, good woman."

"Do not good woman me, sir," replied the miller's wife, "till I call
you good man; and, I promise you, many would scruple to do that to one
who does not love eggs and bacon of a Friday."

"Nay, my good lady," said her guest, "do not fix any misconstruction
upon me--I dare say the eggs and the bacon are excellent; only they
are rather a dish too heavy for my stomach."

"Ay, or your conscience perhaps, sir," answered the hostess. "And now,
I bethink me, you must needs have your fish fried with oil, instead of
the good drippings I was going to put to them. I would I could spell
the meaning of all this now; but I warrant John Bigstaff, the
constable, could conjure something out of it."

There was a pause here; but Julian, somewhat alarmed at the tone which
the conversation assumed, became interested in watching the dumb show
which succeeded. By bringing his head a little towards the left, but
without turning round, or quitting the projecting latticed window
where he had taken his station, he could observe that the stranger,
secured, as he seemed to think himself, from observation, had sidled
close up to the landlady, and, as he conceived, had put a piece of
money into her hand. The altered tone of the miller's moiety
corresponded very much with this supposition.

"Nay, indeed, and forsooth," she said, "her house was Liberty Hall;
and so should every publican's be. What was it to her what gentlefolks
ate or drank, providing they paid for it honestly? There were many
honest gentlemen, whose stomachs could not abide bacon, grease, or
dripping, especially on a Friday; and what was that to her, or any one
in her line, so gentlefolks paid honestly for the trouble? Only, she
would say, that her bacon and eggs could not be mended betwixt this
and Liverpool, and that she would live and die upon."

"I shall hardly dispute it," said the stranger; and turning towards
Julian, he added, "I wish this gentleman, who I suppose is my
trencher-companion, much joy of the dainties which I cannot assist him
in consuming."

"I assure you, sir," answered Peveril, who now felt himself compelled
to turn about, and reply with civility, "that it was with difficulty I
could prevail on my landlady to add my cover to yours, though she
seems now such a zealot for the consumption of eggs and bacon."

"I am zealous for nothing," said the landlady, "save that men would
eat their victuals, and pay their score; and if there be enough in one
dish to serve two guests, I see little purpose in dressing them two;
however, they are ready now, and done to a nicety.--Here, Alice!
Alice!"

The sound of that well-known name made Julian start; but the Alice who
replied to the call ill resembled the vision which his imagination
connected with the accents, being a dowdy slipshod wench, the drudge
of the low inn which afforded him shelter. She assisted her mistress
in putting on the table the dishes which the latter had prepared; and
a foaming jug of home-brewed ale being placed betwixt them, was
warranted by Dame Whitecraft as excellent; "for," said she, "we know
by practice that too much water drowns the miller, and we spare it on
our malt as we would in our mill-dam."

"I drink to your health in it, dame," said the elder stranger; "and a
cup of thanks for these excellent fish; and to the drowning of all
unkindness between us."

"I thank you, sir," said the dame, "and wish you the like; but I dare
not pledge you, for our Gaffer says that ale is brewed too strong for
women; so I only drink a glass of canary at a time with a gossip, or
any gentleman guest that is so minded."

"You shall drink one with me, then, dame," said Peveril, "so you will
let me have a flagon."

"That you shall, sir, and as good as ever was broached; but I must to
the mill, to get the key from the goodman."

So saying, and tucking her clean gown through the pocket-holes, that
her steps might be the more alert, and her dress escape dust, off she
tripped to the mill, which lay close adjoining.

"A dainty dame, and dangerous, is the miller's wife," said the
stranger, looking at Peveril. "Is not that old Chaucer's phrase?"

"I--I believe so," said Peveril, not much read in Chaucer, who was
then even more neglected than at present; and much surprised at a
literary quotation from one of the mean appearance exhibited by the
person before him.

"Yes," answered the stranger, "I see that you, like other young
gentlemen of the time, are better acquainted with Cowley and Waller,
than with the 'well of English undefiled.' I cannot help differing.
There are touches of nature about the old bard of Woodstock, that, to
me, are worth all the turns of laborious wit in Cowley, and all the
ornate and artificial simplicity of his courtly competitor. The
description, for instance, of his country coquette--

'Wincing she was, as is a wanton colt,
Sweet as a flower, and upright as a bolt.'

Then, again, for pathos, where will you mend the dying scene of
Arcite?

'Alas, my heart's queen! alas, my wife!
Giver at once, and ender of my life.
What is this world?--What axen men to have?
Now with his love--now in his cold grave
Alone, withouten other company.'

But I tire you, sir; and do injustice to the poet, whom I remember but
by halves."

"On the contrary, sir," replied Peveril, "you make him more
intelligible to me in your recitation, than I have found him when I
have tried to peruse him myself."

"You were only frightened by the antiquated spelling, and 'the letters
black,'" said his companion. "It is many a scholar's case, who
mistakes a nut, which he could crack with a little exertion, for a
bullet, which he must needs break his teeth on; but yours are better
employed.--Shall I offer you some of this fish?"

"Not so, sir," replied Julian, willing to show himself a man of
reading in his turn; "I hold with old Caius, and profess to fear
judgment, to fight where I cannot choose, and to eat no fish."

The stranger cast a startled look around him at this observation,
which Julian had thrown out, on purpose to ascertain, if possible, the
quality of his companion, whose present language was so different from
the character he had assumed at Bridlesley's. His countenance, too,
although the features were of an ordinary, not to say mean cast, had
that character of intelligence which education gives to the most
homely face; and his manners were so easy and disembarrassed, as
plainly showed a complete acquaintance with society, as well as the
habit of mingling with it in the higher stages. The alarm which he had
evidently shown at Peveril's answer, was but momentary; for he almost
instantly replied, with a smile, "I promise you, sir, that you are in
no dangerous company; for notwithstanding